


You are enough

by Trash



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Slow burn sort of I guess?, Uni AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Kyle is in a shit house share, three miles from campus, with less money to spend on getting rat arsed than he had initially envisioned. In fact, university is turning out to be an all round utter shit show. But then there's Dan.





	You are enough

Here’s the thing - nobody sits you down when you’re leaving college and tells you about the practical life shit you’ll need to know when you go to University. For good reason, probably, because Kyle knows he wouldn’t have listened but _still_ he wishes someone had explained the importance of realistic budgeting to him.

Because to Kyle, that meant budgeting less than £100 a week for rent. Because in his opinion, that money was better off in his pocket than his landlord’s. And by in his pocket he actually meant in his hand, being passed across a bar in exchange for a treble (a _treble_ ). 

What budgeting less than £100 a week for rent meant, in reality, was that Kyle found himself trapped in a thirty nine week contract for a room with shared bathroom/living room/kitchen in a ten room house share with housemates who came home/played instruments/listened to music at varying volume levels in the early hours of the morning all while being an hour’s walk from campus. 

Another thing nobody tells you about university is how much textbooks are going to cost. So now Kyle is in a shit house share, three miles from campus, with less money to spend on getting rat arsed than he had initially envisioned. In fact, university is turning out to be an all round utter shit show. 

Even worse - he had to _get a job_. Which means getting out of bed at five in the morning and walking the hour to the shopping centre, because the buses don’t start running that early. Not every morning, thank fucking God, but often enough that he has a routine. Set alarm, snooze alarm, swear at snooze, get dressed as quickly as possible because there’s no radiator in his room and it’s bastard freezing, go downstairs and scrape mold off the shared bread, then scrape the burnt bits off the toasted shared bread, then eat it over the sink whilst listening to Dan The Third Year sing to himself in the living room.

Dan The Third Year is clearly i) an insomnia sufferer or ii) a lunatic, because Kyle only ever sees him at the arse crack of dawn and he’s either playing a keyboard with his headphones plugged in or singing to himself in the living room. When he’s not doing either of those things he’s bickering with his friend Ralph The Third Year about whose turn it is to pay for petrol. His hair is nothing more than a shag-tat, and he can most often be seen fidgeting and/or pushing his glasses up his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute. Like, well cute. 

So getting up and either being monumentally hungover and/or still a little drunk from the night before to go to a job he hates is worth it because he can walk past the living room and smile at Dan who smiles back, shyly, before turning his attention back to his keyboard or laptop or notebook. 

Kyle has been in Leeds for about two months before he plucks up the courage to actually speak to Dan The Third Year, and it’s only because they find themselves in the kitchen at the same time as one another. He walks in and Dan is there, dipping a tea bag in and out of a chipped mug with his fingers like some kind of savage.

“Isn’t that hot?” 

Dan looks up and drops the tea bag, water splashing everywhere. “Shit,” he mutters, grabbing some kitchen roll and mopping up. He’s gone bright red. 

“Sorry,” Kyle says, taking the wadded up kitchen roll and chucking it in the bin. “Didn’t mean to almost cause a tea disaster.”

“Woe betide the person who makes me spill my tea,” Dan says, smiling. He adds milk whilst Kyle shimmies around him to the other end of the galley kitchen where the toaster is, and before he can say anything else Dan is gone. 

Things go like that. Little bits of conversation. Kyle compliments Dan on a piece he has been working on one day and Dan looks like he wants to disappear. “It’s shit,” he says, plainly.

“It...isn’t shit? Like, it’s brilliant. I really love the words, and your voice is…” he doesn’t know how to compliment his voice without it sounding super gay. Mostly because he is super gay, and kind of hopes Dan is super gay. So…

“Oh,” Dan says. “Okay.” He isn’t blushing anymore, and he is able to hold eye contact with Kyle now. Which is good.

One morning when Kyle gets up it’s snowing and he contemplates ringing in sick but then he supposes he should save his sick days for a legitimate crisis - like the end of term when he has to submit the coursework he hasn’t even started working on. So he drags himself downstairs and stands in the kitchen and eats his toast over the kitchen and watches his own breath cloud in front of him whilst Dan sings in the living room.

Outside the snow falls, and it should be romantic. But he’s so cold his balls have retreated into his body for warmth and the snow isn’t really lying so much as it’s just turning to a brown sludge when it touches the ground and Kyle feels thoroughly depressed by it all. So when Dan walks into the kitchen Kyle says, “Would you mind if...um, I know we don’t...like, it’s really early and that…”

“Use your words,” Dan says.

“Can I have a lift to work?”

Inexplicably, Dan smiles and says, “Yeah,” says, “of course. Let me just put my shoes on and get my coat. Have you got gloves? The heater’s knackered.”

It’s probably colder inside Dan’s car than it is outside, and he recruits Kyle to help scrape the ice from the windscreen with a cassette case. He can’t really feel his hands by the time he is done, but this is a damn sight nicer than walking. Kyle fastens his belt and rubs his hands together whilst Dan shoves a tape in the deck. 

“This is, um, you know Ralph?”

“Sort of. I’ve heard the pair of you arguing like an old married couple.”

Dan laughs. “Yeah, yeah. He’s a knob but...he has a great voice.”

Kyle can’t argue with that. “So do you,” he says. 

Dan glances at him as if to see if he’s taking the piss before looking back at the road. “Thanks,” he says, eventually. And it makes Kyle smile.

It’s a while before he is on an early again, and when he drags his arse into the kitchen Dan is already there, and he asks, “Would you like a lift?”

It’s not snowing, it’s not even that cold all things considered, so Kyle has no reason to accept. Other than the crush he has on Dan which seems to grow day by day. “Please,” he says, instead. And Dan’s smile makes it worth it.

Another thing nobody tells you about when you start university is reading week, which is basically a week to skive off and not feel bad about being too hungover/exhausted to go to lectures. That’s not the official pitch, obviously, but it might as well be. Kyle wakes up early the first day and his head feels like there’s a road drill hammering in it. He pads downstairs to the kitchen and is surprised not to hear Dan in the living room. Because even during half term he has been here, other than the time at Christmas when he went back to London to see his family. 

Kyle feels like a dickhead for being worried. He feels like even more of a dickhead for making a cup of tea that may or may not be exactly how Dan likes it and taking it upstairs. He tells himself he’s going to check on Dan and if he doesn’t answer or gives the impression that he thinks Kyle is mental then he is going to drink the tea himself and pretend it was never on offer. Yeah. He can do that.

He gets to the top of the stairs and hesitates outside of Dan’s bedroom door. He is aware that this is weird, even for him. But still. He’s about to raise his hand to knock when the door opens and there’s Ralph, stepping out and closing the door behind him with one hand and adjusting his shirt with the other. 

“Bloody hell,” he says, hand coming up to his chest. “Gave me a fucking heart attack.”

Kyle gawps, unable to form a sentence. “Oh. Uh. Sorry. I...didn’t...sorry, I don’t...make a habit of hanging out on the landing. Usually.”

Ralph laughs and claps Kyle on the shoulder lightly. “No worries, mate. See you later,” he says, heading down the stairs. Kyle watches him go and is surprised at how physically sick he feels. That’s that, then.

He drinks the tea himself.

It feels petty, but he swaps all of his early shifts with a colleague. “Uni’s mental,” he says, and she nods.

“Tell me about it,” she says, but still swaps their names round on the rota. 

If Kyle does encounter Dan in the house, which happens because it’s not a fucking mansion and there’s only so much effort you can put into avoiding someone when you share a bathroom and kitchen for fucks’ sake, he acknowledges him in the vaguest way possible before exiting stage left as soon as possible. 

One evening he’s lying on his bed considering having a wank when his door opens and Ralph is there being all handsome and talented, and he says, “You busy?”

“Um,” Kyle manages, sitting up as Ralph shuts the door behind him.

“Why are you ignoring Dan?”

What the fuck? “Um.”

“Look, Kyle, I’m not normally in the business of being a go-between but this is really just getting a bit much.”

“I’m...not ignoring him? And what has it got to do with you?”

Ralph takes a seat at Kyle’s desk and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dan fancies you,” he says, “you must know that.” He doesn’t give Kyle a chance to answer. “And now he thinks you’re ignoring him because you’re homophobic. And like, I’m straight? And even I can tell you’re a bender.”

Kyle raises his eyebrows. “I...this is a lot. I’m not homophobic, I’m not a massive fan of being called a bender if I’m honest, and you and Dan are shagging so…”

Ralph laughs, throws his head back and clutches his stomach. “What in fucks’ name gave you the impression that we’re shagging?”

“I saw you coming out of his room that time, remember? You were putting your shirt on.”

The penny seems to drop. “Oh. Oh! God. I’d been up all night with him.”

“Oversharing.”

“No! He. Dan has...he was planning on dropping out. I spent the night convincing him not to.”

Well. Kyle feels like a fucking idiot. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. He was going to drop out, get the train home to London and jump into the Thames. So. No, we weren’t shagging.”

“He was going to kill himself?”

Ralph nods. “So like, I’m not saying you need to make a move because he’s suicidal. I’m just saying, you need to make a move because if he makes another bloody mixtape and doesn’t give it to you I’m going to shove it up his arse.”

Kyle is stunned. “He’s made me mixtapes?”

“Yes. Which, by the way, only secondary school boys and gays do. I’m pretty sure.” Ralph gets up. “Right, I have to go get on with my life somewhere without any drama. See you later, Kyle.”

And then he’s gone. It’s all a lot to take in, really. But one thing’s for sure, Kyle no longer fancies having a wank.

The next day he gets up at four, even though he doesn’t have work, and loiters in the kitchen. He can hear Dan in the living room and he waits patiently, nursing a mug of tea and looking out the window. The living room door opens and Dan pads through the dining room toward the kitchen in bare feet despite how fucking cold it is. He sees Kyle and flushes.

“Morning,” Kyle says.

Dan runs a hand through his hair. “Want a lift?” He asks.

Kyle sets his mug down on the bench and walks toward him wordlessly and dips his head to kiss him. There’s a moment in which Kyle is pretty sure Dan is going to shove him away but then he’s kissing back. And it’s lovely, actually, even though Kyle hasn’t brushed his teeth. He breaks the kiss to look at Dan, smiling shyly.

“Thought I’d...pissed you off or something,” Dan says.

“Ralph told me you were thinking of dropping out and topping yourself.”

Dan’s smile fades. “Oh. Right. Well, I’m not going to. So you don’t need to kiss me again if that’s the only reason you’re doing it.”

Bugger. “No, fuck no. I...saw him coming out of your room one morning and assumed you were sleeping together. Then he told me otherwise. So. I didn’t kiss you for that reason...but I also wouldn’t not kiss you because of that. Does that make any sense?”

“Sort of.”

“The point is, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. But you’re a cool, unattainable third year and I’m a prick. So.”

Dan laughs. “I’m not cool or unattainable,” he says, “and you’re not a prick. Well. Maybe a little bit of a prick.”

Kyle can’t disagree with that. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Dunno,” Kyle says, “not studying, but other than that…”

“Okay. Want to go out for dinner?”

They go to Nando’s, because there’s nothing more romantic than chicken wings on what may or may not be a date. “What are you going to do when you graduate?” Kyle asks around a mouthful of rice.

Dan shrugs. “Go back to London. Dunno. I’d really like to start a band.”

“Have I ever told you that I play keyboard?”

“Fuck off.”

“And synths,” Kyle says. He tries his best to look smug.

“What you going to do when you graduate?” Dan asks.

Kyle has no idea. He’ll be pleasantly surprised to pass his first year, if he’s honest. He says as much to Dan who laughs.

“Been there, done that. When you graduate, will you move back home to London?”

“Probably.”

“If you do and if I’ve started a band, will you join it?”

“Yes,” Kyle says, “definitely.”

“Promise?” Dan presses.

“Promise.”

Dan graduates in June, and Kyle meets him afterwards. Dan kisses him lightly. He looks sad, even though he’s pretty drunk. They both are. 

“You promised,” Dan says. “Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” Kyle says. “How could I?”


End file.
